


Scars of Feather and Bone

by AngelsAndDemons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Bathing/Washing, Castiel is the Shield of God, Fluff, Heaven, M/M, Massage, Musings of an angel caught in grief and self-doubt, Soft Dean Winchester, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23226487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsAndDemons/pseuds/AngelsAndDemons
Summary: Castiel often aches in face of his dwindling grace, but it makes him more human. Lets him feel things differently. Sharper. Deeper. And so, at this moment with Dean’s hands pushing the pain out of him, he’s perfectly content.Two minutes or maybe half an hour later, Dean’s hands find his wings.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 142





	Scars of Feather and Bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizleenimbus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizleenimbus/gifts).



> Prompted by lizleeships's piece  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/B9x0pslnBBH/?igshid=rz52rrwltzsu
> 
> Man, I just want good things for Cas

Castiel remembers the first time he came to Earth. Well, to say he remembers the first time may not be entirely correct, for he’s lost memories and never recovered most. It used to be hard not to blame Naomi for that. But with time, Castiel understood. He understood that Naomi was just trying to do her duty, like he himself.

The Shield of God. A coveted title among angels, but Castiel hardly sees why. All he’s done is fail. He’s failed to protect Heaven, his brothers and sisters, the Winchesters and so many other humans along the way. He may be the Shield, but all he knows are its chinks.

These are the thoughts that swirl inside him as he lies in the bath. He flinches when he hears someone come inside.

It’s Dean.

“Hey,” Dean softly says, “you ok?”

Castiel sighs. Quiet. Resigned. Opens his eyes to look at Dean leaning against the door frame, something like worry across his face. Castiel doesn’t deserve it.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s lips quirk up.

“Heya.”

And then,

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Castiel doesn’t feel like answering. But he does.

“A lot of things. Mostly, my own failures and shortcomings.”

Castiel doesn’t know if it’s just him or if the water in the bath suddenly got much colder.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, and Castiel stops him right there-

“Dean, don’t. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry. I’m sure you have things to do, so leave me be.”

Something flashes across Dean’s face.

“Ah well,” Dean tuts and begins moving closer, “I was simply offering to scrub your back.”

Even in his pool of misery, Castiel smiles.

“Oh?”

“Mm hm.”, Dean says and takes a seat on the stool behind Castiel, a towel in his lap.

And Heaven help him, Castiel says nothing. Lets Dean start with his thumbs at the nape of his neck, glide them in slow circles and weave his fingers into his hair.

Castiel often aches in face of his dwindling grace, but it makes him more human. Lets him feel things differently. Sharper. Deeper. And so, at this moment with Dean’s hands pushing the pain out of him, he’s perfectly content.

Two minutes or maybe half an hour later, Dean’s hands find his wings.

Castiel moans low in his throat, relaxation bubbling up inside him. He knows Dean is smiling.

“Y'know,” Dean begins, his voice quiet, “I’ve always loved your wings. Remember the first time I actually touched them. So soft, and warm. Before, I always thought they’d be white. Fluffy, cherub type. But when I saw them, black and blue and dark, I couldn’t accept them being anything but.”

Castiel hears this, and he feels shame. That’s not what his wings are. Not anymore. They’re barely more than weak muscle and scattered feathers. And he hates it.

“And now they’re worn and rough.”, Dean says and Castiel clenches his eyes shut, feels the wetness behind them.

He feels lips whisper on the crown of his head.

“And, Cas, I love them.”

“Your stories. Your fights and your scars. It’s them- your wings. And I love them.”

Dean swallows.

“And I- I uh- I lo-”, Dean clears his throat.

“I need you.”

Castiel doesn’t know how to fill the silence that follows. He knows what Dean means. What he meant the first time he said that. What he’s meant for a long time now.

So Castiel reaches behind himself and grasps Dean’s hand on his shoulder. Squeezes it. Once. Twice. And then lets go.

Dean continues rubbing circles into his skin, and he continues combing his fingers through Castiel’s wings. For a long time. Long enough for the water to go cold. And yet, Castiel only feels warmer.


End file.
